The Crow Bar

Over JTerm, I took a photography class. I already had a camera from my photojournalism class, and (based on my knowledge of my roommate's art history class) was right in my assumption that it was definitely the most creative, interesting way to fulfill my gen-ed art credit.

We had three projects over the month of January, and very few guidelines as to what or who or where we should take photos. While I was sitting at home trying to brainstorm ideas after my first class, I jokingly told Luke I wanted to photograph The Crow.

Then, I convinced my yearbook adviser that it was absolutely necessary to do a spread on The Crow for the student life section of the book. So, for my homework and my job I went to the bar. It turned out pretty alright:

I mean, who isn't a sucker for neon lights and a shallow depth of field?

As part of of the assignment, we had to write an artist's statement about the 10 photos we decided to turn in. So, without further ado, here's my semi-satirical, definitely-exaggerated artists statement about how The Crow is an integral part of the Augustana community:

When I was a freshman, I went to nearly every event Augustana had to offer. I was trying to turn acquaintances into friends and friends into the type of friends who I didn’t need to go to an event with to spend long periods of time. Those events—the late night roller skating, the musicians who try a little too hard to get a bunch of awkward white private school kids to dance, the balloon animal artist—are the epitome of the Augustana community that makes everybody scream “Augie Advantage.” There are other parts of the Augustana community, though, that are not as conventional, that are not advertised in the alumni magazines or the pamphlets handed out to prospective students.

Augustana’s administration does not show touring alumni the old bowling alley on a Friday night when the music is pounding and there is condensation rolling down the brick walls because of the heavy-breathing, sweat-stained freshmen making out in the corner. Augustana’s administration does not show the parents of incoming students the amount of Corona or Coors flags proudly displayed on dorm room walls. And Augustana does not advertise the one place many students consider essential to their educational experience: the Crow.

And, so, I decided it needed to be documented; it needed to be paid the proper homage as part of the Augustana community. The Crow Bar is more than just a dive bar to Augustana students, or Augie Doggies as we’re called there. It’s dark and it’s dirty, but it’s dark and dirty in a gloriously shitty kind of way that feels like home (even if it’s also home to gross old men who stroke your hair without asking and use the old, scratched wooden beams as stripping poles when night turns to morning).

Just as the bar is dark and dirty, so are my photos: the poorly lit, multi-colored outside sign that looks as if it belongs in a 70s horror film, the neon lights shining in the background while a line of glasses wait to be filled to the brim. My favorite shots in this project are ones that simply show the Crow Bar for what it is: a dive that has a tap serving endless two dollar pitchers of PBR, a dive that has whiskey sours with much more whiskey than sour, a dive where the J&B bottle waiting on the counter mimics the way most people end a night at the Crow—slightly blurred. And it is a dive that creates a community for students at Augustana; a place where, despite its gloomy glow and shadowy corners, the neon lights and the laughs from liquor and lagers offer a real bright spot.

Here are a few of my favorite shots (no pun intended) of The Crow:

My personal hero, Courtney Arthur, also makes for a lovely model.

Luke makes for a less lovely model, but still above average.

And the yearbook spread that I designed based on the project has turned out pretty great too:

If you'd like to see more photos from this project, check out the The Crow photo gallery.